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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105595">The Book of Thunder</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintIere/pseuds/SaintIere'>SaintIere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Tale of the Ikazuchi [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Gore, F/M, Forbidden Love, Fourth Shinobi War, Graphic Description of Corpses, Slow Burn, The Fourth Ninja war is re-written because I hate this arc</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:10:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,432</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105595</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintIere/pseuds/SaintIere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Shall we die together?”<br/>He whispers in my ear…<br/>Fireflies in the dusk</p><p>-	Masajo Suzuki, Love Haiku, 88</p><p>Star-crossed lovers often met a grisly end in the shinobi world. Chihaya knew this keenly—after all, she was the result of one. Her parents had gone against the grain, to express their pain, their love and their desire for freedom. A leaf shinobi and a cloud shinobi could never have expected to make it. She wondered if they ever did—or if they were content to eventually succumb to the world together.</p><p>Their time together was short, yet their sin had outlived them. Choices bore consequences, and unions bore children. These were bitter lessons to a young girl, who’d been made to pick up the sense of duty her father had abandoned. She was the heir to this prodigious clan, and she could not falter. She had siblings, comrades—a village—to protect. It was her place in this world. It was her Shinobi Way.</p><p>And then, facing the Konoha’s Copy Ninja, she erred.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hatake Kakashi/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Tale of the Ikazuchi [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978591</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Book of Thunder</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome to a fic that's been living in my mind for more than half a decade! </p><p>This fic is actually Part *two* of its series, but the companion work, the Book of Lightning, takes place way, way before. The Ikazuchi clan themselves have been influenced by a lot of Asian mythologies, especially some bits of Hindu mythology that I learned from my grandfathers. That being said, the whole system is a hodgepodge of things, and none of the myths or creatures here are intended to fully reflect their real-world counterparts at all.</p><p>The timeline for the fic follows "The Ultimate Naruto Timeline" by seelentau; their version uses Naruto's birth as the central time marker, so:</p><p>bNb: years before Naruto was born<br/>aNb: years after Naruto was born</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>[7 bNb] – Konohagakure</p><p>“You’re progressing well,” Sakumo said gently, “Why don’t you take a break and have fun with your classmates more?”</p><p>“I still have to train,” Kakashi pointed out. From his vantage point on his father’s back, he could survey the village to his heart’s content. In the distance, he could see Might Gai and Might Dai doing drills, their green suits catching the sunlight as they darted around. The evening was a pleasant one, as far as he could gauge. Everyone was calmly going about their evening business, and the smells of the night-time food vendors had begun wafting their delicious tendrils around the streets. Spring was already upon them, crisply and cheerfully so, carrying the hope of early summer with it.</p><p>“If you don’t stop and enjoy life every now and again, you won’t make progress,” Sakumo pointed out. “Everyone needs time to relax.”</p><p>“I haven’t stopped making progress,” his son shot back stubbornly.</p><p>“Give it a few weeks,” he smiled. “In any case, you should spend more time with your peers. You’ll be teaming with some of them for quite some time. These are your precious comrades, and it’s important to know about them.”</p><p>“Yes, dad,”</p><p>They paused. Kakashi straightened up a little on his father’s back, looking for the interruption; he knew who to look for—and indeed, she was there, smiling serenely with a package in her arms.</p><p>“Ah, Mayuri,” Sakumo let Kakashi down so he could take the bundle. “Thank you again for this, I’m grateful. I can’t imagine you have much time outside of missions, so I wanted to give you some compensation,”</p><p>The young woman—brunette and dark-eyed, shook her head graciously and pushed his outstretched arm away. “There’s no need, Sakumo. I like sewing, so the mending and darning take my mind off things,” she said. “Think of it as us helping each other.”</p><p>“Still, I’d feel better if you took it,” he said sheepishly. “I’m a grown man who can’t fix his own clothes, after all. It’s a bit of a burden.”</p><p>“We all have our weaknesses,” she said good-naturedly. “And Kakashi, how is the academy?”</p><p>“Fine, Miss Tanaka,” he answered politely. Kakashi was used to the song and dance—when his father was out, he would do the collecting instead.</p><p>“Glad to hear it,” she said. “I wanted to give you this, by the way, as a congratulation for being at the top of your class,” a small package was produced, and the young boy was taken aback. “Word catches quickly in my circles, and it seems you’re a minor celebrity.”</p><p>“Oh—uh, thank you,” he took it, unsure of whether it was polite to open it at once. Seeing her encouraging smile, he untied the package. It was a simple handkerchief, but the embroidery was rich—one corner was enveloped by leaves, surrounding lacquered threads that formed the Hatake crest. The feel was far more delicate than any of the fabrics in his own house—save for perhaps a few old, ceremonial kimono.</p><p>“It’s lovely,” Sakumo said. “Honestly, you should let me pay you.”</p><p>“No,” she laughed. “If I got paid for hobbies, they’d become another job. And you know it’s my nature to overwork myself, so I can’t have any more jobs,” she winked. It was quickly hidden—but Kakashi spotted a bit of sadness there. “In any case, this is for you to use on special occasions. Perhaps say, to put in your pocket for a date in the future,”</p><p>Kakashi glanced at his father, quizically. “A date?”</p><p>Sakumo coughed. “Oh, dear. That'll be an interesting conversation. Thank you again, Mayuri.”</p><p>“It’s nothing,” she said with a bow. “I should leave you both to enjoy the evening; I’ve been called out for tomorrow, so I have to go prepare.”</p><p>They waved her off, watching her disappear into the slowly growing crowd. Kakashi looked at his father again.</p><p>“She’s Anbu, isn’t she?”</p><p>“How in the world did you know that?” Sakumo didn’t sound surprised—though, slightly exasperated. He seemed used to his son’s prowess, however tiring it was.</p><p>“Her body is a bit more tanned than her face, so she wears a mask,” he pointed out. “And she’s called out at strange times and is barely in the village.”</p><p>“Well, you’re observant to a fault,” he sighed. “Yes, she is—but I trust you know not to go spreading that around.”</p><p>“Who would I even spread that to?”</p><p>Sakumo laughed. “Well, your friends, but that takes us back to our first conversation. But yes, Mayumi is Anbu, and she is one of their best young agents.”</p><p>“She looked sad,”</p><p>“When I told you to take an interest in your comrades—well, that’s why,” Sakumo led his son through the streets, towards their house near the quieter outskirts of the village. “Mayuri has led a very lonely life. Her parents were killed on a mission early on in her life, and she’s never quite recovered. She holds everyone at a distance.”</p><p>“Is that a bad thing?”</p><p>Sakumo sighed. “Sometimes you become tired of carrying everything yourself, Kakashi. The unfortunate thing is that she has no one to give the burden to. She won’t let anyone close enough to take some of the weight off. You’ll understand when you get older.”</p><p>Kakashi frowned. He very much doubted that—after all, wouldn’t you get stronger carrying a weight yourself?</p><p>It made perfect sense.</p><p>---</p><p>[7 bNb]</p><p>It was a bleak, rainy day. Autumn had sent its fingers combing through the foliage, turning it all sickly brown and covering the ground with frost. Kakashi saw his breath fan out in a steamy puff and instantly wished to be back inside. His father hadn’t left the house in days. His last mission, and the disaster it wrought still rankled months later. The only one who consistently stopped by was Might Dai.</p><p>It bothered him.</p><p>Seeing his father this way—knowing <em>why</em> and seeing the once respected, feared and adored White Fang be reduced to…mere existence. Someone who just shrunk away from the world’s gaze, waiting for the pity of another colossal failure of a shinobi. He’d left the two alone, under the pretence of getting the darning from Mayuri again. He couldn’t stand the sight of it. Dai, frantically flinging platitudes and speeches while his father simply stared at the floor—it was such a pitiful routine. Kakashi was ashamed.</p><p>He’d said as much when he dropped the clothes off to Mayuri.</p><p>“I’d rather be like you. Honourable.”</p><p>She’d looked at him for a while, a crease appearing between her brows. The expression on her face had stuck with him, as did her words.</p><p>“Don’t let shame make you cruel, Kakashi. Don’t ever become cruel.”</p><p>Cruel—it seemed like a word meant for weak people to describe the strong—those who could truly see the world and control their emotions. It puzzled him as to why this Anbu shinobi would look at him with <em>disappointment</em> when he agreed with the prevailing sentiment that his father was a failure. She’d sighed at him, pushing a warm, towel-wrapped dish into his arms before showing him out.</p><p>“It’s tonkatsu and steamed rice.”</p><p>He hadn’t responded, and the door shut behind him.</p><p>Now, he was knocking at that same door again. He wondered if she’d still be angry with him.</p><p>No answer.</p><p>He knocked another time. Perhaps she went out—or she was sleeping, or several other things that could have taken her away from home could have come up…but something felt wrong. He turned the knob, and it gave way. The place felt desolate; dust floated through the air, illuminated by the sudden daylight. Kakashi walked through the hall, noting that the chill from the outside had thoroughly permeated the house; no one had heated the place in hours. On the kitchen table, there was a neatly wrapped package—paper, bound by twine. He touched it, his finger sinking in slightly with the give of fabric beneath. The rest of the kitchen was spotless…unreasonably so. He noted a strange undercurrent of rot—it was faint, but it was there. Following his nose, he rifled through empty cupboards and drawers, before finding a lone, wilted, and soft onion that had rolled beneath the sink.</p><p>It was as though she’d emptied the place completely.</p><p>He searched the rest of the house, finding it abandoned. Most of her clothing remained, but her ninja tools, her sewing kit—everything else he associated with <em>her</em> was gone. For some reason, his heart was hammering beneath his jacket. The realisation hadn’t crept up on him—no, he’d somehow known it from the moment he opened the door. He returned to the kitchen, snapping up the package before rushing out and back to his home.</p><p>The two older men looked at him as he careened through the door, out of breath and eyes wide. For the first time, Sakumo’s expression changed from its dull resignation to surprise.</p><p>“Mayuri is—gone,” he panted.</p><p>Dai spluttered for a second. “Gone? Was she taken? What did you—?”</p><p>“No, the house is empty. Like she took everything and left.”</p><p>He held out the package, which his father took. As his father pulled at the ends of the twine, Kakashi was disturbed to find his father strangely aged—his hands, his face—somehow, he seemed frail. He’d been content to keep the scrutinizing to a minimum in the past few months. The degradation had simply escaped his notice. In the package were his and Kakashi’s clothes, neatly folded; Sakumo unravelled each one carefully. In an out of season yukata laid a note that fluttered to the ground, along with a folded handkerchief. His father opened it.</p><p>“What does it say?” Dai had risen from his chair.</p><p>“She’s left the village,” Sakumo said quietly; he tucked the note into his breast pocket. There was a long pause. “Go and tell the Hokage.”</p><p>“He’ll have her hunted down,” Dai said. “Are you sure this isn’t a misunderstanding?”</p><p>“She asked me to tell him,” he continued. “She knew what the consequences were.”</p><p>Dai heaved a sigh, before nodding gravely. “I will go. Take care of yourself, Sakumo.”</p><p>Kakashi watched the man leave, before rounding on his father again. “I don’t get it. You failed an entire mission to save someone—but you’re handing in a friend?”</p><p>His father’s gaze had become weary again, and his face had fallen into its former, despondent state. “Mayuri knew you’d find the package and asked me to ensure that I let the Hokage know about her defection. She’s aware that if you or I hid this from the village, it could spell the end for us both too.”</p><p>“Why? Why did she leave?”</p><p>“It was all just too much.” Sakumo picked the handkerchief off the floor, unfolding it to reveal an intricate embroidered pattern of flowers.</p><p>In less than a year, he would find the handkerchief in his father’s things and would be able to scrutinize its composition more closely. He would take it to the Yamanaka flower shop to accurately gauge its meaning, as he picked up the wreaths he’d ordered. Asphodel—symbolising an apology, fringed the edge of the fabric in its four corners. White chrysanthemums began the border, which spoke to the truth. He’d never seen the next flower, but as Inoichi told him, it was cyclamen—a goodbye. Sprays of gardenia interlaced itself with an acacia; neither of them could say for sure what it meant, but it seemed to point towards some kind of secret affection. This and the addition of an austere, lone purple monkshood near the Hatake crest had kept him awake at night—thinking. It was an explanation and a warning—but what was it?</p><p>Kakashi would fold the handkerchief to place it in his father’s coffin along with the rest of the flowers.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>[4 bNb] – Kumogakure</p><p> “Why have you come here? I’m busy,” the sharp voice was as cold as always.</p><p>Hayahide glared across the room, but his mother stared back with nonchalance. Her feline gaze was resolute, unshifting as always.</p><p>“I need to know why you continue to be like this—it’s been five years,” his voice rose with each syllable. “You have a proper heir now. What do you want from us? What else?”</p><p>Under the imposing Ikazuchi crest, Kohaya regarded her son for a second before answering. “The child is not the problem. Her mother is.” She held up a hand to stop him as he opened his mouth in defiance. “A child can be raised—moulded. A woman? She has already been shaped—her loyalties have been shown. As I have reiterated, again and again, I will not recognise the union. That Konoha traitor is unfitting to carry the clan’s name.”</p><p>“She doesn’t have to! She doesn’t even have to wear the crest or be in the family formally. Just send word that you accept her. You know what weight your word carries, and that it would make her life easier. The villagers spit on her. No one will talk to her other than me.”</p><p>“You’ve made your beds—literally,” Kohaya said acidly. “You will lie in them. I did not raise you to shirk responsibility, and yet, here you are. I have thus far allowed you both to live in our village. I doubt the Leaf would have been so accommodating. They’d have executed her and then flayed you for information on your bloodline traits.”</p><p>“Really? Is that the benchmark we’re using? You’re my <em>mother</em>. Where is your humanity?”</p><p>“It <em>is</em> the benchmark, Hayahide. It has always been. They tried to steal you away as a child to do just that, and you cavorted with one of their number like it was nothing. Like the Ikazuchi and other Cloud ninjas they killed were nothing.”</p><p>“How can you paint her with the same brush? She’s done nothing, and she’s endured it all.”</p><p>“I’m thrilled you’re able to think like this,” she said, her voice filled with an acidic bite. “Death for our clan is the most finite thing. You know this,” she took a breath, her expression shifting—it was the only emotion he’d seen other than anger—but it was fleeting. “The Leaf stole your father’s life and his soul in the war. He gave everything up to protect his family, specifically <em>you</em>. You must at least have the barest respect for that sacrifice.”</p><p>“As you said, mother, we make our beds. Our ancestors made the first deal with the guardian to take our souls upon death. Ever since we’ve just accepted it and made the same damned choice again and again. It’s the price he asked for and one we agreed to,” he said quietly. “Father knew that.”</p><p>Kohaya’s fist came down on the table with enough force to crack the wood. The infant in the next room awoke with a little sound and then began crying. “How <em>dare </em>you.”</p><p>“Me? You just threw his death in my face! I was a child, I didn’t ask anyone to die for me! I knew it was a mistake to come to you. It has always been a foolish weakness of mine—I never learn who you are,” he rose, throwing a scroll to his mother, who caught it deftly, her amber eyes wide and dangerous. “That is your official announcement of your next grandchild. I expect you will attend the birth, so you can take them away from us too.”</p><p>The toddler kept crying as he left. He dug blunt nails into his palm, unable to comfort his own daughter.</p><p>---</p><p>Tanaka Mayuri knotted her fingers in a nervous cluster, staring past the tattered sliding door. This morning had been trying—though not nearly as much as it had been with Chihaya. She’d been able to stomach some clear broth and would brave a bowl of rice later if her body permitted. Though tiring—she relished the battle. This fight had a prize she coveted more than anything.</p><p>This, however, was what made her even more anxious—she knew she wasn’t the only one coveting another child of the Ikazuchi clan.</p><p>She spotted Hayahide as he swung the corner of their desolate little street, and from his posture, she knew what the outcome was. She’d never been hopeful, really. The old woman hated Mayuri with more enthusiasm than anything. The villagers had followed suit, but she knew the other reason. She watched her handsome, distraught husband drag his feet up the footpath to the house. He’d been the prize that many families had their eyes on for <em>years</em>. He was the heir, the carrier of the powerful Ikazuchi blood that seemed to shunt their kekkei genkai to almost all offspring. Being in their clan gave a person power, security and the loyalty of one of the oldest bloodlines in Kumogakure. Of course, it came with a hefty price, but most didn’t know about that part—not intimately, anyway.</p><p>With a bitter sigh, she wondered how many of the disappointed families were now eagerly planning to throw their grandsons at Chihaya as soon as she could speak. Her baby—a son, as the midwife told her, was currently eagerly jamming a little foot into her organs; he would have the same fate. She would never be accepted by the old hag or her village—but the children? They would be adored.</p><p>Adored, used and then consumed by that <em>thing</em>.</p><p>Hayahide bowed his head to her, but she cut him off. “You don’t have to tell me. I know.”</p><p>“I tried.”</p><p>“I know that too,” she said. “Sometimes I wonder why we don’t leave this place,”</p><p>His head snapped up. “We’d both be missing-ninja then. The village would annihilate us.”</p><p>“I’m already a missing-ninja,” she pointed out. “My own Anbu comrades would gut me without a second thought.”</p><p>“Yes—but Kumogakure prides itself on loyalty. We have had the lowest number of rogue shinobi of all villages…both because we inspire loyalty and because our missing ninjas are made an example of. And me? A rogue Ikazuchi? My mother would send me to the guardian herself. That’s also assuming that Konoha or another village don’t capture me for dissection first.”</p><p>Mayuri closed her eyes. “I know that but let me believe we can be free for a second.”</p><p>“She may be satisfied with having one heir.”</p><p>She opened her eyes again, gazing right into her husband’s. “Now who’s being naïve?”</p>
<hr/><p>[2 aNb]</p><p>The mission was routine, but these were often the more dangerous ones. Complacency was a killer, and it was something Kakashi kept firmly in mind as he moved through the Land of Hot Water. He was veering dangerously close to Kumogakure, but he trusted his tracking skills. He’d catch someone nearby with ease. Taking this route, he could get to his target much sooner, without having to camp out in the wild, humid forest. His mind was occupied with planning—how efficiently he could infiltrate, how fast he could be back in the village, and then he caught a familiar scent.</p><p>The face of a woman with an Anbu tattoo flitted across his mind’s eye, and he felt the strangest tug of dread. He could keep going—ignore it, but he was compelled. There <em>was</em> her entry in the bingo book—he could rationalise that she was a target that deserved going after, but it would be a hollow lie.</p><p>He stopped. As per usual, his sense of smell was right. He recognised her at once, even from a distance. Though years had passed, she’d kept her dark hair in the same style. The last time he’d seen her—how old had he been? He could never admit it—but the loss of the routine hurt. Her absence, shortly preceding his father’s death, <em>hurt.</em></p><p>“Mayuri?”</p><p>She had been sitting near a stream, staring out into the distance absently. She turned swiftly—but rather than looking surprised, she seemed resigned.</p><p>“Oh,” the sound was strange—an involuntary gasp as she looked at his face. “Goodness. You look just like your father, Kakashi. You’ve grown,” there was an element of pride in her voice. “Are you here to kill me?”<br/>
<br/>
She smiled at him, bitter.</p><p>“No, actually,” he straightened up, slipping a hand into his pocket. “I was here on other business. I didn’t expect you all the way out here,”</p><p>“I’m taking a journey to clear my head,” she said unconvincingly. “Is it true what I heard about Sakumo—that he—”</p><p>“Yes, he’s dead.”</p><p>Her gaze fell. “I’m sorry about that. He deserved better.”</p><p>“He could have used a friend,” Kakashi said. The words had left his mouth before he intended them to. “His last days were bleak.”</p><p>“The village does that to you,” she said. “We both had darkness in ourselves that we couldn’t deal with. I think that’s why we got along.”</p><p>“The word in the Leaf was that you eloped,” he said, carefully studying her face. “That last kerchief you left my father had something about love on it. I spent years thinking that maybe you were in love with him…but it was someone else, wasn’t it? Someone in the Cloud.”</p><p>“You’re correct. I cared about your father, but not in that way,” she said. “We were similar in many ways, but perhaps a bit too different in others.”</p><p>“If you defected to the Cloud, why are you all the way out here?”</p><p>Her expression darkened. “I imagine my former home would find it amusing that I’m being ostracised by the place I fled to.”</p><p>“I take no pleasure in that,” he sighed. “I came here because I wanted answers, not because I wanted to do anything. I just always wanted to know: why would you throw it all away? You were rising through Anbu as a respected ninja. When I joined, I’d heard they had high hopes for you. Your loss was a blow to them.”</p><p>“Are you asking me why I thought love was more important?” she laughed. “Maybe you haven’t changed as much as I thought.”</p><p>He was grateful for the mask—because that remark <em>stung</em>. “I’m trying to understand why you threw your life away for something so uncertain.”</p><p>“Because I saw someone who saw me in turn. He looked at me and didn’t see a good shinobi or a tool for the village. He didn’t see some ratty orphan who should be grateful for where she was. He didn’t look at me with pity—which, bless your father, was my only grievance with Sakumo. He saw Mayuri. With all my pain, my anger and my bitterness.”</p><p>“He, being Ikazuchi Hayahide?” Kakashi asked. “The rumours have been a bit wild.”</p><p>“Why would I confirm that? I imagine the village would want to torture the clan secrets out of me if it were the case.”</p><p>“I’m sure they would, but as I’ve said, I’m already busy on this other mission,” he shrugged noncommittally.</p><p>She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you did change.”</p><p>“I’m not going to be cruel; I always value my comrades,” he said firmly. “Even now. Even with your name sitting in a black book. I can’t erase that you were a comrade to my father—and by extension to me.”</p><p>“So,” she looked at him full on. “If I attacked you, what would you do?”</p><p>“You’re not attacking me,” he said. “Which means you already know the answer to that. I don’t see the point of the what-ifs,” his tone was flat—matter-of-fact. He moved to sit next to her near the stream, picking a pebble to spring off its surface. “So, why Hayahide—aside from his ability to see your pain?”</p><p>She was silent for a moment. “Because he’s in pain too. He’s carrying burdens across generations for a family that expects that he just grins and bears it—even when it crushes him. He needs me.”</p><p>“All villages have families like that,” he said quietly.</p><p>“Not like the Ikazuchi clan. Or at least—not many,” she laughed. “I used to think some of our most noble clans were depraved for the things they did, but this family…”</p><p>“Is it connected to the legend of their guardian?”</p><p>The amusement faded from her face. “Yes. I suppose I can give you <em>one</em> valuable bit of information—because if you’re up against them, you may need it. Any one of them would try to kill you on sight.”</p><p>“You have no love for your new family?”</p><p>“They have none for me,” she said dryly. Her expression changed, becoming almost sorrowful. “Besides, I owe it to Sakumo, don't I? As you said, I wasn't there for him."</p><p>He studied her for a moment, and sighed. "Alright, what can you tell me?"</p><p>"The guardian is real. He’s the protector and preserver of the Ikazuchi family and the village,” she shrugged. “The tailed beasts come and go from villages, but he is their constant. I don’t know <em>what </em>he is, but he’s rarely used but highly effective, as you’d imagine by the fact that the rest of the villages barely know anything. No one really survives meeting him. I take it they're all terrified of his power, since the terms of his contract seem to skew in his favour.”</p><p>“Does he have a name?”</p><p>“Depends on who you’re asking for,” Mayuri said. “I don’t know the name of the whole being, but to get <em>him </em>in that form is asking a lot, apparently. From what I understand, you’ll get something different depending on what you’re asking him to do, and the skill of who’s calling him. He sends avatars or allies to the battlefield rather than his true form. The clan shinobi, especially the heirs, study his names tirelessly, so they can call on the one they need. They never utter them, so there’s not much I can tell you.”</p><p>Kakashi cocked his head. <em>It sounded like some kind of yokai</em>. “And what’s the catch?”</p><p>Mayuri smiled, but it was deeply unpleasant—a mixture of sadness and sick amusement. “There is always at least one, right? This one is a doozy. In exchange for protecting their people, he collects them all upon death. Their bodies—their chakra and their souls.”</p><p>Kakashi stared. “Their souls?” She nodded. “They’re trapped eternally with him.”</p><p>“Yes, and it’s been like that for generations. That’s how he gets his power,” she continued. “But it gets worse. To get his true form to battle—something that I think has only been done once to re-capture the eight-tails—requires every family member’s life to hang in the balance. If he is gravely injured, he will kill every living member to protect himself and survive.”</p><p>Part of him wanted to voice how absolutely ridiculous it all was—but then, thinking back to his sensei, he understood the risk. They’d all been doing the variations of this deadly dance for a long, long time.</p><p>“Well, you’re right. It does sound like a lot to bear.”</p><p>“It always is, for shinobi,” she said. “It’s no wonder the Ikazuchi are the way they are. But the way they talk, if something truly horrific befalls the village, the guardian could probably stomp it into a bloody smudge.”</p><p>“Are you worried that if he dies, he’ll go to that thing?”</p><p>She laughed. “I’ve had that thought in my head since he told me. It doesn’t bother me in the way you’d think—not anymore. That fate hangs around me like an annoying old friend.”</p><p>“You know, back when you left,” he began. “I didn’t understand what the village could have done that was so bad. But then, my father died, and then…” he looked at his hand. He could still see Rin’s blood on it in his mind’s eye. He dunked it into the cold water, savouring the burn. “I lost everything. I’m just ‘Friend-killer Kakashi’ to them.”</p><p>“You’re a weapon to be wielded until you break or turn blunt,” Mayuri said bitterly. “And I am sorry you had to learn the truth."</p><p>"Will you ever return to the village? It sounds like you're miserable."</p><p>"What, for them to torture me for information and execute me?" she laughed unpleasantly. "No, I will stay with my husband. Misery loves company, at least."</p><p>"Then," he looked towards the forest again, where his goal lay. "I suppose this is where we part. I'll take your information into account. I'll...leave out the fact that it came from you."</p><p>She looked surprised. "Why?"</p><p>"Because if it got back to the Cloud, you'd get executed there anyway. Besides, it isn't important. All we have regarding the Ikazuchi are rumours, so what's one more?"</p><p>"You're a kind young man. By the way, did you ever get to use that handkerchief? Before everything went to hell?”</p><p>It was his turn to give a dry chuckle. “No. And I never will. I don’t think I deserve it.”</p>
<hr/><p>[4 aNb]</p><p>“Look at you, little weaklings,”</p><p>The three genin were piled in a heap under the stern gaze of their sensei. The middle-aged man stood unflinchingly in the scorching heat, even though the group had been there for hours.</p><p>Ay scowled. “Get up!”</p><p>The children struggled to their feet. The tallest was a fair-skinned boy—now burnt red in the sun, with sweaty blonde hair that stuck to his face, framing dark eyes. Close by, the other boy of his age was slightly shorter, with dark skin and stark white hair. The last was a runt of a girl, younger than the others by four years; she was shaking at the knees and trying her best to keep up with her teammates. Even at this age, she was the picture of an Ikazuchi—sharing the same wheatish complexion and golden eyes as her esteemed ancestors. It must have been small comfort to the matriarch—Chihaya was theirs to a fault, whatever her lineage.</p><p>The boys hadn’t chafed at having such a young teammate, but they did seem to be building a deep sense of resentment towards their sensei. This was planned—the norm if he had to think on it. If you always liked your teacher—they were weak. Unable to stomach the distaste of their students and do what they had to. Ay instantly remembered his own father; he was almost curious to see if he could compare to the Third Raikage’s strictness.</p><p>The Chihaya’s gaze shifted from him, signalling that someone was approaching. Ay sighed. If <em>he</em> hadn’t heard or sensed them—he knew exactly who their visitor was.</p><p>“Lord Raikage,” a voice cut across the training yard.</p><p>Ay turned to greet his cousin, Ikazuchi Kohaya with as much warmth as he was capable of. “Why are you out at this hour? Aren’t you usually seeing to clan drama?”</p><p>At the sight of her grandmother, Chihaya immediately wiped the expression of exhaustion on her face, standing straighter on unsteady feet. Cee, the blonde boy, supported her swaying form with a deft arm.</p><p>“I have news from our team of jonin,” she said quietly.</p><p>Ay glanced at the children before waving them away. The trio bowed respectfully to their elders before exiting with an unmistakably grateful air.</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“Tanaka Mayuri’s body has been located. Of course, I imagine you know what that means—if she’s dead, so is Hayahide. The boy went after her when she left, without a thought,” she closed her eyes for a moment—was it frustration, or something else? “It appears the Guardian hasn’t collected him, however, as the jonin were able to recover some remains. I will destroy them myself.”</p><p>“Why didn’t it take him? Isn’t that the pact?” Ay asked sharply.</p><p>“Hayahide broke it somehow. His body isn’t in good condition, but the preliminary reports are that he did not carry the seal in his summoning tattoo anymore,” Kohaya explained. “In his desire to reach the Pure Lands with that woman, he must have given it up. I didn’t know it could be done, but he found a way. The guardian would not have answered his call, even if he desperately tried to summon it in their last moments.”</p><p>Ay made a derisive noise—sucking the spit between his teeth. “Fool. What will you tell the girl?”</p><p>“The truth. Her weakling father and traitor mother are gone,” Kohaya’s venom did not quite reach her eyes. Ay was younger than his cousin, but he had grown up largely under her wing due to the relationship between their clans. He could read her easily.</p><p>“I imagine the younger ones aren’t old enough to understand any of this.”</p><p>“No,” she sighed. “But that’s for the best anyway. They have less to grapple with, unlike Chihaya. She will have to carry the burden her father shirked, along with the new ones he left her.”</p><p>“Make him an example,” Ay said sternly. “She is your heir. She must know what the path means, and what straying can cost.”</p><p>The regret was still plain on her face, despite the harsh tone of her voice. “Of course. I will see to it.”</p><p>---</p><p>Chihaya stared into the pit, trying to discern the lumpen forms under the tarp. The smell was overpowering—a cloying stench mixed with myrrh from the incense burners. She’d been dressed in their formal clothes, with the crest of the clan on each sleeve. Further, today, she’d been given a new headband to wear—a guard that came down to cover her cheeks as well as her forehead. It was still too large for her and kept slipping down over her eyes.</p><p>Behind her, Hayaki was fussing a little about being taken away from her playtime. At the same time, Mahaya stood mutely with some of the older clan members. Chihaya met his eyes briefly, noting his anxiety even at a distance.</p><p>“It is time to begin.”</p><p>The clan murmured in assent, bowing, and taking their seats in unison, leaving Chihaya to stand alongside her grandmother.</p><p>Kohaya drew the sheet away and stilled. Her eyes carried a series of emotions—from shock to dismay, to hurt—then to disbelief. Chihaya tore her gaze away and instead sought to inspect the smelly thing that was in the pit. It was unmistakeably a corpse—its features were obliterated by decay. The head was a blackened skull, with leathery, dark skin hanging off in places to show bone. The body was malformed and too large, its mottled flesh crawling with a few worms and beetles.</p><p>“Where is it?” her grandmother’s voice rang through the stillness. She pointed to the corpse, where one arm was missing. Her eyes glinted a foreboding yellow in the firelight.</p><p>A masked jonin at the side-lines bowed. “That was what we found, Lady Kohaya.”</p><p>“You were supposed to recover <em>everything</em>,” she said with deadly calm. “Get back out there and find it now. Don’t come back until you do.”</p><p>The ninja bowed and vanished in a wisp of smoke.</p><p>“Chihaya, come.”</p><p>She walked towards her grandmother, careful not to drag her feet—it was one of Kohaya’s many pet peeves. The smell was suffocating at this distance.</p><p>“This is what remains of your father.” The others of the clan began murmuring. “Here is our <em>heir,</em> Ikazuchi Hayahide.”</p><p>Chihaya felt her chest tighten, taking in a gulp of air she sorely regretted. Her mind reeled—refusing to consider that this <em>thing</em> was him. How could it be? But it was—it had to be! Upon further inspection, the corpse was wearing the necklace that matched with her mother’s. Even if this body wasn’t his, her father would have to be dead. No one could take that necklace from him otherwise.</p><p>“Hayahide was once our hope. He failed and betrayed our clan,” Kohaya said in a carrying voice. “As you have been gathered here to witness, by his corpse remaining on the earth, he has broken his pact. And here we are, disposing of this body that symbolises our shame.”</p><p>Her voice had an echoing quality to it in the yard. The tone wavered, but Chihaya didn’t look at her grandmother’s face. All she could see was the corpse. She wanted to ask about her mother—but she knew it wasn’t the time—that if her father was dead, it was more than possible that her mother was, too. She walked towards the pit slowly, ignoring the way her grandmother paused in her speech. The necklace was stuck to bits of skin—and tacky from blood and worse, but she took it off.</p><p>“Garbage,” Kohaya said. “It should be burned with him.”</p><p>Chihaya bowed deeply. The others assembled began to murmur. “May I keep it?”</p><p>If Chihaya had been looking, she would have been surprised to see the startled hurt flash through her grandmother’s hardened gaze.</p><p>“If you insist. It’s not like he left you with anything but disappointment.”</p><p>Chihaya’s hand closed around the necklace, and she returned to her spot. With a simple jutsu, Kohaya called a white-hot burst of lightning from the sky—incinerating the remains in a blinding flash of light.</p><p>They retired to the front of the compound, while guests and other clan members paid their respects. The same deep bows they gave to her grandmother—were now given to Chihaya, who still clutched the sticky necklace. She’d refused to give it to anyone after they left the pit, and soon, the others decided it was best to leave well enough alone.</p><p>As the parade of ‘mourners’ thinned, Kohaya stiffly shunted the children to the dining hall. They were given a series of bland foods—devoid of oil, salt or meat, as was their custom after funerals. Her siblings ate in relative silence, with Hayaki grumbling over her portion. At her age, she likely hadn’t understood anything that had happened. Chihaya chewed her plain rice, feeling ill.</p><p>Where was her mother? Was she dead too?</p><p>There was a knock on the door. Kohaya made a noise of assent, and it slid open, revealing a maid.</p><p>“Lord Raikage has arrived.”</p><p>On cue, the occupants stood, giving respectful bows as Ay barrelled into the room, his steps heavy on the delicate tatami.</p><p>“It’s been done then,”</p><p>“Yes, Lord Fourth,” Kohaya nodded. “With the small matter of his arm being missing—but I have set the Anbu on it.”</p><p>Ay grunted. His eyes settled on the children. “And you all?”</p><p>Mahaya mumbled something incomprehensible, but the Raikage seemed to ignore him. His gaze was now fixed on Chihaya.</p><p>What was she supposed to say? Her grandmother’s expression was stern—cold, as usual.</p><p>She opened her mouth to reply but was cut across by Hayaki.</p><p>“This food is bad.”</p><p>Ay looked at the child for a second, and then let out a bark of laughter. “Yes, well, blame your father for that then. You’ll be back to eating enough dango to rot your teeth by next week.”</p><p>Kohaya’s tone was dry. “Honestly, these children. I assume you’ve come to talk about Chihaya’s training as heir now?”</p><p>“Yes, in fact.”</p><p>“As you wish. Children, you may leave.”</p><p>It was perfunctory. Just a plain command as though nothing had happened. And again—she knew, she’d be discussed at length without even being there. She stalled as the other two made their way to the door. Kohaya’s eagle eye settled on her.</p><p>“Where’s my mother?”</p><p>The prodigal speed of the clan was something to behold—but at this moment, it was rendered pitiful. Like a bolt, her grandmother’s hand shot out, connecting with her cheek; the too-large headband skittered across the floor.</p><p>“I told you to <em>leave</em>. Do not mention that woman again.”</p><p>---</p><p>Chihaya bent over the stream, feeling as though she could still smell the corpse. Her hands were cold in the running water, but she kept a firm grip on the necklace as her other hand worked. Footsteps crunched in the stones behind her, and she knew the gait well.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Cee bent down near her, staring into the clear water. “Is that a necklace?”</p><p>“It was my father’s,” she said calmly.</p><p>“Was? I heard a rumour in town, is it true?”</p><p>“He’s dead. My mother too, I think,” she nodded. “I’m washing it to get all the stuff off.”</p><p>“Oh,” he trailed off for a second, unsure of what to say. “How do you feel?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” she took the necklace out of the water, studying it carefully. She brought it close to her face and gave it an experimental sniff. It seemed as though it was finally clean. She put it on, shuddering at the cold metal chain on her skin.</p><p>“I was wondering why he stopped waiting for you after training,” Cee continued quietly.</p><p>“You and Darui never told anyone about that,” she said. “Why?”</p><p>“Because he was your father,” he shrugged. “And he was there almost every day.”</p><p>Chihaya looked across at the thicket where her father would stand. Usually, he’d be pretending to read a newspaper, holding onto two cans of iced tea and waiting patiently. Many times, as training would run late, the tea would be warm, but they would drink the cans while facing the stream. He’d taught her how to skip rocks, and then how to step on the water to go get them again. A few times, her mother would be there, on the side-lines, watching quietly—unsure and skittish, like a stray cat. For a few moments, she could pretend that they were a typical family. Recently, her mother had begun to talk with her more easily—something that she could see brought joy to Hayahide.</p><p>The thicket was empty.</p><p>An ache was building in her chest. As the tears came, Cee said nothing. He sat by the stream and seemed fine in pretending as though it was any other day, and they were simply grateful to be let out of training early.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>“So, it’s come to this, eh?” Kakashi sighed.</p><p>The body, of course, did not answer him.</p><p>It no longer looked like Mayuri—with its tattered skin and sunken flesh, though he could make out the remains of the tattoo on her shoulder. All that dark hair was gone, probably sloughed off when they moved her. She still wore the stained, simple kimono of a housewife—something that was somehow, especially painful to see.</p><p>She’d run away to make a new life. He had wished the best for her.</p><p>The medical shinobi who did the initial exam had returned, clipboard in hand. “Oh, I knew the Hokage was sending someone, but I didn’t expect you, Kakashi. Though, you were too young to have served in Anbu with her, right?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Hm. Well, cause of death was hard to discern based on how beat up she is, but I’d wager it was the head injury. Our men had chased her into the forest and had cut down a few large branches in her way.”</p><p>“So, you think she got hit and died later, after giving them the slip,”</p><p>“Sort of. The ones who returned said that the Ikazuchi man showed up. They had a hard time with him—apparently, they had to use quite a few paper bombs and a few ingenious little tricks.”</p><p>“He’s dead too?” Kakashi looked at the shinobi in surprise.</p><p>“We retrieved an arm,” he said. “Given its damage, I think it’s unlikely he made it back to his village alive. It would have been a dream come true for us to get the whole body, but when they returned to the area, they just found the arm.”</p><p>“And Mayuri,”</p><p>“And her,” he nodded. “Speaking of which, my exam yielded some interesting tidbits—you need to tell Lord Hokage: Mayuri had at least one child.”</p><p>Kakashi stared.</p><p>“Yes, there’s the strong possibility of a cloud shinobi in one of our least favourite clans, carrying the blood of one of our own,” he sighed. “Unfortunately, my skills end there.”</p><p>He recalled that conversation—the weight that the Ikazuchi clan carried, as well as its deadly power. “She left a child in a world she despised,” he murmured.</p><p>“Hm?” the shinobi looked up at him. “I should wrap up here. In any case, I’m sure the cloud shinobi retrieved Hayahide’s other remains. I’ve suggested to the others that it is futile and dangerous to keep trying. We’ve never gotten an Ikazuchi corpse.”</p><p><em>No, but now we know why.</em> He looked at Mayuri’s body. Somehow, that thing left him—but his clan had come for him. But the woman who had sacrificed everything to join them?</p><p>They’d let her rot alone.</p>
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